


Just ask

by soy_em



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Dean is sick, and as usual, he’s so overdramatic that he thinks he’s going to die.Sam thinks he’ll be lucky if natural causes carry him off before Sam kills him.





	Just ask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyPastryChef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/gifts).



Dean is sick, and as usual, he’s so overdramatic that he thinks he’s going to die.

Sam thinks he’ll be lucky if natural causes carry him off before Sam kills him.

***

It started off ok. Sam woke up, got up and went about his day, leaving Dean snoozing peacefully as usual. Dean had eventually appeared for breakfast, moving more slowly than usual. Getting old, Sam thought fondly. 

“I don’t feel too good,” Dean had complained, when Sam had queried why he’d only eaten one egg for breakfast. Sam had asked all the relevant questions, Dean had retreated to his Dean-cave, and all was well.

That was yesterday. 

***

Now, Dean is ensconced in their bed, wrapped up in all the blankets Sam could find; nose streaming, eyes water and cheeks flushed a hectic red. Sam carried the giant tv into their room, as well as the gramophone and a selection of DVDs. The bed is littered with snacks and magazines Sam picked up on an emergency run to the the shop in town.

Sam’s found himself something to do as well. There are still rooms of uncatalogued clutter in the Bunker; he’s photographed all the items in one and is creating an online record of them all. If he has to be stuck in the Bunker for a few days, he might as well make it count. Or at least, that’s his plan. 

“Sammy.” 

Sam valiantly ignores it. 

“Sammy. Sammy.” The last has a hint of a whine to it that sets Sam’s teeth on edge. 

When he arrives in their room, it looks just like he left it. 

Twenty minutes ago. 

“Yes, Dean?” he asks, teeth grinding. 

“Sammy.” Dean looks so grateful to see him that Sam’s heart is almost melted. “Can you make me another one of these?” He holds up his mug with big eyes, M*A*S*H playing softly on the tv behind him.

“Another lemon and honey, Dean?” Sam asks, a little exasperated. 

“Yes please,” Dean says. “My throat hurts.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, but heads to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

***

Sam’s only been settled back at the table for forty minutes when Dean calls him again. 

“What do you need this time, Dean?” he asks, weary. 

“I’ve run out of tissues,” Dean says, snuffling. A little trail of snot makes its way down to the cupids bow that Sam usually loves to this. Not today. 

“You could go to the bathroom and get some?” Sam suggests.

“My legs feel all wobbly.” Dean looks so pitiful that Sam gives up. “

“Ok, I’ll get the new box.” 

“Thanks, Sammy.”

***

By mid-afternoon, Sam’s about halfway through his new catalogue, and he knows that if he pushes on he can get it done that evening, allowing him to move onto the next room the following day. He thinks it’s unlikely that Dean will be ready to head out, so he might as well make plans for himself. 

He’s just in the middle of cataloguing a particularly complex Norse amulet when Dean calls him again. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. 

“Yes, Dean?” he asks. 

“I don’t like any of these movies.” Dean’s frowning as if this is truly the most tragic event. “Could you get me Lord of the Rings?” 

Sam’s eyebrows nearly his his hairline. “You want to watch Lord of the Rings?” 

“Yes, please.” Dean’s voice is small. Sam’s tempted to check him for a fever, but his eyes are clear. With a suspicious look at his brother, he heads off to collect the DVD.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean says, once the credits start rolling. He’s peering at Sam oddly. 

“Do you have a fever?” Sam asks sharply.

“No more than this morning.”

Dean’s temperature had only been a degree higher than normal earlier in the day - nothing to worry about.

With one last suspicious look at his brother, Sam goes back to his task. 

***

Sam’s eyes are dry and itchy the next time Dean calls him. 

“Sammy,” he hears. His fingers curl into fists.

“What, Dean,” he asks, when he reaches the room. A hint of irritation might be seeping into his voice. 

“I just…” Dean pauses, looking unsure. “You really like this bit.”

Sam peers at the tv. It’s paused, Aragorn standing fierce on Weathertop.

It’s true, he does really like this bit, although he absolutely does not have a crush, no matter what Dean says. He supposes he could watch for a moment. 

He perches on the edge of the bed. “Make it play, then,2 he prompts. Dean sticks his tongue out but Aragorn jumps into motion. 

Sam’s quickly engrossed - every time he watches these movies, he remembers how much he loves them. Within minutes, Dean’s shifted across the bed and Sam’s sat back against the headboard. Dean throws the covers across them both. 

Soon, Sam realises that Dean’s closer to him, pressed up against his side. It’s instinct to lift his arm and wrap it around Dean, pulling his brother tight against him in a reversal of their usual position. 

It’s not until they’ve reached the peace of Lothlorien that it occurs to Sam.

“Wait, did you put this on so that I’d come and cuddle with you?”

“No!” Dean says indignantly, but he squirms and the top of his ears go red.

“You totally did!”

Dean turns his head away, which is answer enough for Sam. 

“Wait - is that what all of this has been about?” 

There’s dead silence. 

“Oh my god, Dean. Why didn’t you just ask?” 

Dean starts to pull away, embarrassed, but Sam hauls him back in. 

“Idiot,” he says fondly. Dean’s face is burning, but Sam pretends to ignore it. “Lets just enjoy Boromir dying, shall we?” 

His catalogue can wait until tomorrow.


End file.
